


Reunion

by TheDivineMissBlue



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Au Ra, Au Ra Raen (Final Fantasy XIV), Consenting Adults, F/M, Female Warrior of Light - Freeform, Fluff and Smut, Light tail pulling, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex, friends reuniting and becoming lovers, heavensward 3.1 patch, smut with feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 12:57:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20408125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDivineMissBlue/pseuds/TheDivineMissBlue
Summary: Thancred and the Warrior of Light have a private reunion.---Before she can register what is happening, he crosses towards her in a few short strides and his mouth is on hers. She melts into him without hesitation, lifting her arms to burying her hands in his unkempt hair; sweeping it away from his face, deepening the kiss and standing on her toes so he doesn’t have to strain so much. Thancred cradles her face just beneath her horns, stroking her skin and scales with a touch that is practiced but also hesitant. His breath shakes when he breaks away for a moment, adjusts the angle of his mouth and kisses her again.They both know their friendship will never be the same after this.Neither of them care.





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during Heavensward 3.1 patch, just after the first interaction with the "Warriors of Darkness".

The hour is late when they arrive in Ishgard and make their way to the Fortemps manor. It is later still when Phaedra is sure everyone else has retired for the night after an evening of drinking and catching up with their recently returned rogue. She disappeared from the revelries earlier than everyone else; the run in with the Warriors of Darkness weighs heavy on her mind; but more than that being near Thancred again has brought to light feelings she thought were buried and forgotten.

He is different to the man he was; not just in appearance but in temperament as well. He seems broader across the shoulders, his hair is longer, and the bandanna that covers one eye is hard to miss. The muscles in his arms are more defined and he even appears to stand taller. He laughs less heartily and without as much ease, but she does see him laugh a few times. He speaks less, letting others monopolize the conversation while he listens. He drinks very little, and in the moments where he lets his guard drop there is a severity to his expression that was not there before.

But he smiles. 

Oh Gods, he still smiles. 

And it’s the smile he gave her when he appeared in the midst of the fight with the Warriors of Darkness - as if sent by the Gods themselves - that lingers in Phaedra’s mind. That smile… Soft and genuine and affectionate. Different to the smiles he gave their other companions. A smile she last saw before the banquet in Ul’dah when they agreed to _‘discuss things later’_... That night, that promise... It might as well be a lifetime ago. 

His smile set her whole body tingling to see it and more so to recall it. He’s smiled at her before. Many times. A sarcastic grin here, a cheeky, flirtatious smirk there, all expressions he used on many to win their hearts and get his way. Phaedra didn’t like to think of the last time he looked at her with such open warmth and sincerity. After all, that night was now tarnished with memories of weapons, and betrayal, and a swift, failed escape into the depths of Ul’dah.

Thoughts of Thancred’ss smile, among other things, is what keeps her awake. It is what causes her to stir from her soft bed and rise, determined to find a way to distract her mind. She waits by her door listening for sound. It’s dark outside the windows and she strains for a moment, listening.

Nothing. The manor is silent and still for the night.

Stepping out into the hall she is surprised to see him – Thancred - down the corridor. He pushes off the wall where he is leaning, his uncovered eye focused on her. He is still in the same clothes he arrived in and it doesn’t look like he has slept yet, either. He looks as surprised to see her as she feels, yet neither of them makes to move or speak. They are each caught in something invisible, yet tangible that is binding them together. Something so primal and instinctual it doesn’t have a name to call its own. Her gaze is locked with his, unable to look away or unwilling; she’s not sure. Her breath grows shorter and she can feel something constrict around her rib cage.

Phaedra parts her lips as if about to speak but her voice fades on her tongue. Thancred’s visible eye darts to the subtle movement of her mouth and she is sure he gulps on something. Without a word, she retreats back behind her bedroom door and to the sanctuary of her room. Palms flat, she leans bodily against the wood. She is quivering inside and out while she chases shaky breath after shaky breath and tries to focus on the sturdy edifice before her. Thancred has always been able to make her blush with a well-placed word but this is… different. This is deeper and harsher and yearning. This is… something entirely new.

She would be lying if she said she never thought about him in a more intimate sense. Lying to herself and to whatever Gods might have been looking in to say she never thought about him romantically. She would be lying to say his words never hit a mark, or that she never experienced a sense of longing. She would be lying if she didn’t admit that his loss hurt the most. Lying if she said that after finding safety, she spent the first few nights mourning him more than any other Scion. Mourning him, and the thought of what might have been. What could have been. Mourning the loss of a love she wanted and yet was denied. First by duty as a Scion, then by Lahabrea, and then again by the machinations of the Monetarists.

They were on the brink of _something_ before that night in Ul’dah. Something that never came to fruition. Something Phaedra never expected to encounter again because, as far as she knew, Thancred perished in the escape attempt. She believed he perished along with Yda, Papalymo, Y’shtola and Minfilia. She had buried those feelings, those desires and thought them gone, but now...

A knock on the door surprises her, and she opens it on instinct and without a second thought. Thancred is on the other side, and he requests entry without uttering a single word. She steps back once he’s inside and he closes the door behind him; his gaze never leaves her and aside from the click of the latch, everything is silent. 

For what feels like an eternity they stare at each other. Watching. Waiting. Gauging one another. The intensity of… whatever is between them is more palpable now there is less space. Its like a string or cord is wrapped around them both and is urging them together. Phaedra breathes as steadily as she can, despite her heart racing like a runaway chocobo. She tries to give an air of calm. She doesn’t want him to see the thud of her heart or – Gods – how much she wants him and has missed him. Missed his stupid face, and his stupid voice, and his stupid laugh.

And his smile. His stupid, foolish, wonderful smile.

Before she can register what is happening, he crosses towards her in a few short strides and his mouth is on hers. She melts into him without hesitation, lifting her arms to burying her hands in his unkempt hair; sweeping it away from his face, deepening the kiss and standing on her toes so he doesn’t have to strain. Thancred cradles her face just beneath her horns, stroking her skin and scales with a touch that is practiced but also hesitant. His breath shakes when he breaks away for a moment, adjusts the angle of his mouth and kisses her again.

They both know their friendship will never be the same after this.

Neither of them care.

Her fingers search for buckles and buttons and she slowly strips him of each item of clothing covering his top half. She relishes his skin beneath her hands. Hard muscle, and soft, warm flesh. She can feel scars from altercations under her fingertips. He is marble and clay, hard but malleable; he is steadfast and strong... And for the moment he is hers in a way she never dared to hope he would be.

Thancred’s kisses are practiced and sure. He leaves her mouth to kiss down her neck, burying his face into her skin and pausing to bite at the juncture of her shoulder. Phaedra barely conceals a gasp and digs her fingers into his bare shoulders for good measure; that earns a chuckle from low in his chest that vibrates all the way through her down to the tip of her tail. His fingers, certain of their task, make quick work of her clothing helping her shed each garment and leaving them to decorate the floor. He lifts her with ease, carries her to the large bed and places her down on the sheets his gaze locked on hers the entire time. She can see him well enough in the candlelight, the expression of certainty and determination on his face is uncharacteristic, but it fills her with a sense of anticipation she’s never experienced with anyone.

Phaedra shifts on the covers a little, leaning back on one hand while Thancred removes his boots, trousers and his small clothes with them. His cock is already hard, though he gives Phaedra little time to look before he climbs onto the bed with her, one knee positioned between her legs and claims her mouth again. She strokes her hands down his back mapping his shoulder blades and his spine, spreading her legs to accommodate his larger bulk as he guides her to lie back.

He keeps most of his weight on his knees, careful not to crush her or crowd her and his hair tickles her nose and neck when he presses more white-hot kisses across her skin. It feels like his hands are everywhere at once, caressing her breasts, her back, her backside, her thighs and then between her legs. She lifts her hips when his fingers slide along her heat, probing and stroking while he tends to a nipple with his tongue. She swallows hard and hears Thancred chuckle; she knows he heard her. Weaving her fingers through his white hair she rolls her hips into the gentle wandering of his hand and fingers. He lifts his head and watches her reaction as he eases one finger inside her, exploring and learning and memorizing with every touch.

The rhythm his sets is slow to begin with as he lets her grow accustomed to the intrusion of his fingers. She arches her head back, eyes squeezed closed while she rocks her hips against his hand and his touch. Thancred skims her jaw with his lips and his teeth and his hot breath fans over her cheek. 

Phaedra turns her head and catches his mouth when he begins to descend. She knots her fingers within his hair when she kisses him, open-mouthed and full of heat. Thancred seems surprised by her boldness, but that surprise is gone in a flash and he moans against her lips. Phaedra spreads the fingers of her freehand over the top of his back. She can feel the heat of his length against her thigh when his hips grind forward, searching for some kind of relief. 

He begins to spread her a little at a time and breaks the kiss to gauge her reaction as he slips a second finger inside her. Phaedra half-groans and half-sighs at the sensation. Thancred only smiles and his forehead comes to rest against hers; his breath is fast and hot on her lips. Phaedra is certain she can feel heat radiating off his face, as well. 

Phaedra is sure she is soaking the sheets beneath them and attempts to close her legs. Thancred stops immediately and without warning. He withdraws from her breathing hard and his expression a mixture of confused and uneasy.

“Do you want to stop?”

She blinks rapidly up at him, eyes focusing in on the concern evident on his face and in his uncovered eye. Her breathing is shallow and fast; she can’t remember when or why she closed her eyes in the first place.

Phaedra shakes her head several times. “I just don’t want to dirty the sheets…” Her cheeks, already hot, grow hotter when she realizes what a foolish thing to say that is and she covers her face with one hand to hide the embarrassment. Thancred gives a breathless chuckle above her. He bats her hand from her face before cradling her cheek again in one hand. His eye moves over her features before he sighs and brings himself in to kiss her. He kisses her deep and slow, his fingers moving to card through the hair that has come loose from her ponytail.

“That’s just like you…” he sighs against her lips. “Worrying about the workload of others… Even something as mundane as washing dirty sheets.” He brushes his nose against hers and kisses the curve of her jaw. “I missed you… I wish I could have been with you. We... I... So much time has been lost to us and I...” He tuts, and closes his eye in frustration. “Gods, I missed you.”

The weight of his words, the heaviness of them and the roughness of his tone – thick with emotion he doesn’t quite know how to articulate – is enough for Phaedra to know he isn’t joking or playing with her. He is serious. As serious as she has ever heard him, and her heart aches behind her rib cage.

“I missed you, too.” Pain prickles behind her nose and she forces it back with a smile, “I thought you were… I didn’t want to hope that…” Words are hard. There are so many things she wants to say. So many things he deserves to hear and that she’s kept locked inside for so long but giving them the air they deserve is difficult. She’s afraid, deep down beneath the lust and the longing is the fear. The fear that if she says something that is too honest and too close to her heart that he’ll retreat from her and retreat from this. “Thancred…”

He looks at her directly at the sound of his name. Phaedra draws her fingers down his face, ghosting over the bandanna. She tilts an eyebrow, asking his permission. He gives it by closing his visible eye and inclining his head towards her. Her fingers shake when she unties the material and lets it flutter to the ground. Thancred blinks his eyes hard and Phaedra pushes his hair back to see what he was so eager to hide.

The iris of this eye is milky-white; similar to the colour of Y’shtola’s, but not exactly the same. The corners of Thancred’s mouth pull into a brief, awkward smile. Clearly it bothers him, or he wouldn’t cover it. Cupping his cheek, Phaedra leans up towards him and presses a butterfly kiss to his eyelid. He laughs again. A light chuff through his nose. His body relaxes against her. He captures her mouth as she’s moving away; a softer kiss this time and he begins to trail his fingers up and down her sides.

“Tickles…” Phaedra mumbles against his lips, squirming as he brushes a particularly sensitive spot slightly above her hips.

“Hmm…” Thancred continues to caress her and he smiles into the kiss with each jolt of her body his touch is rewarded with. Phaedra wriggles, body squirming and writhing in a half-hearted effort to get away from his wandering hands. He moves against her, and in moments his hands are distracted, one gripping to her thigh as she hooks it over his hip and the other pressing into her back. They rut and grind and rub against one another, his cock pressing into the softness of her belly. His skin grows slick with sweat and Phaedra bites her lip to keep her voice down.

Heat builds in the depths of her stomach, curling and coiling around itself before creating molten rivulets that pool between her thighs. There’s a pulsing ache that is as insistent as a heartbeat and twice as fast that is distracting and intoxicating all at once.

“Thancred,” Phaedra half-speaks and half-moans. He digs his fingers into her thigh, sliding them up towards her ass where he squeezes her flesh. She grips his shoulders, pushes and follows through with the motion as he rolls and topples onto his back. His wears a dazed and surprised look for a moment before coming to his senses. He takes stock of the change in position, of her astride him, naked and breathing hard with sweat beading on her skin.

He sits and adjusts their positions until there is almost no space between them. Phaedra knows she could speak. Knows she could take charge, but she lets him lead. Lets him guide this encounter in the hopes she will be able to dictate later ones. Thancred’s eyes never leave hers, except to close when they kiss. He slides his hand between her legs, his fingers moving through the wetness at the juncture of her legs. Phaedra shivers to feel his touch, then his hand his gone and it is his cock-head that presses against her.

“Ready?” he asks her, voice hoarse and deep with desire. He kisses her jaw while he waits for her answer, slowly sliding the head of his cock back-and-forth against her heat, coating himself in her slick.

“Mhm-hm,” Phaedra presses her forehead to his, letting her eyes slip closed as he holds his length still in one hand and guides her to sink down onto him with with other. She’s taken aback by how much thicker he is than she imagined; and she has imagined, many times. He’s thicker, filling her and stretching her with a slight pinching sensation. Thancred groans and holds her thighs in his hands, waiting until she gives the confirmation to continue. He feels good inside her, hot, and thick and he makes her feel full. When he hilts his voice staggers and his breath shakes.

_“Twelve, Phaedra—"_

Her eyes fly open. 

It is rare for anyone to call her by her name. Normally its one of the many monikers she has obtained. Adventurer. Primal Slayer. Scion. Her name is a rarity. And to hear Thancred say it… It is like hearing it for the first time. Carding her fingers through his hair, she kisses him deeply and begins to move, rolling her hips forward at a painfully slow pace. He exhales a breath he’s been holding and starts to match her movements, thrusting his hips up. Sweat pools in the crease of her knees and Thancred’s hands slip and slide over her flesh occasionally catching on her scales as their pace quickens. They fall into a rhythm that has them each panting and stealing breaths between burning kisses and murmurs of praise.

Thancred is a talker - a fact Phaedra finds amusing and locks away for future reference - most of his words are a jumble of praise mixed in with her name. Phaedra isn’t sure he’s even aware he’s forming words. His hips press and rub the hood of her sex with every connection their bodies make and her heart pounds as the bliss of oblivion that hovers out of reach edges closer and closer. He drags his fingernails across her back and down her spine, following muscle and sinew; he draws her closer so her breasts are cushioned against his chest. 

The smell and sound of them fills the room and he intoxicates her with every sound and gesture. His lips press to her throat and his teeth press hard enough to feel into her flesh. The tops of his thighs smack the back of hers each time he drives into her, and there’s no feeling comparable to how he fills her and how he feels inside her. It’s divine and terrible all at the same time. To think she has this now, and to fear this may never happen again.

_“Gods, Thancred—”_ her voice is rising and all attempts to stifle herself have turned to dust now. If she is heard, then she is heard. She would rather he know that he pleases her, than not. And he does please her. His every touch creates invisible sparks on her skin that are like lightning and fire, and he touches to explore and to learn what creates the reactions he wants. She learns, too. She learns that his neck is sensitive around his Archon tattoos. She learns that biting his bottom lip will earn either a whine or a growl. She learns that he grabs and squeezes and is wonderfully tactile in his love making.

His teeth skim her jawbone and he wraps one hand up in her hair where it’s now come completely loose. He kisses the corner of her mouth, then her bottom lip, sweat matting his hair to his forehead. He peers into her eyes, breathing hard and open-mouthed. _“Alright?”_ he asks between sharp breaths.

_“Yes,”_ her reply is just as breathless, and she pushes her face into his neck chasing the release that is almost upon her. _“Feels good—”_

Thancred’s finger press into her spine. _“--should have done this years ago.”_ His voice is a harsh murmur, but it makes her laugh all the same. He groans and begins to drive his cock into her harder and faster than before. She clings to him, trying to match his frantic pace, but hardly able to keep up. She begs and pleads with incoherent sounds and words for him to keep going. Out of no where, she feels one of his hands wrap around the base of her tail and before she can question him, Thancred has pulled slightly and pressed his fingers into where the underside meets her back. 

The orgasm approaching is upon her like a tidal wave and her whole body quivers. Her internal muscles clench and squeeze around Thancred’s length and she scratches her nails across the top of his back as her fingers flex and curl. Phaedra is unable to catch her breath and then she starts to topple. Falling to one side shaking and trembling as her toes curl.

Phaedra’s senses return after Gods know how much time. She’s on her side on her bed and Thancred leans over her with worry apparent on his handsome face.

“What was that?” he asks, a smile breaking through the concern; clearly pleased to see he’s not just killed the Warrior of Light.

Phaedra’s mouth feels sluggish when she tries to form words. “Tail…” she groans into the pillow.

He cocks a brow. “Your…”

“Ishsensitive.”

She rolls and flops onto her front. Her whole body is prickling and sensitive.

“I…” Thancred strokes her back and the bed moves beneath his weight. Phaedra glances back over her shoulder and notices he is still erect. He didn’t finish, she realises. Gods, she fell _off _of him. “My apologies. I didn’t realise it would have such an effect.”

Calmer now, she smirks into the pillow. “I wasn’t expecting tail-grabbing.” She tells him, shifting and slowly getting to her knees while leaning forward on her arms. Looking behind her, she catches his eye and glances down at his cock and then back up at his face. Thancred grins in response and nudges her legs apart, eager to finish. He strokes the head of his cock against her and guides himself inside her once more, pressing his hands into her hips.

“I didn’t realise it was out-of-bounds,” he speaks between thrusts, his skin slapping hers. He hits her deep and in a place that makes her extremities feel like they’re fizzing. Phaedra digs her fingers into the pillow beneath her head and pushes back into each drive of his hips. Thancred grunts, he strokes her thighs and back, exploring and mapping. He alternates between thrusting and a slower drive of his hips, a roll that is wonderfully torturous to feel and brings a sound of mutual satisfaction from the both of them each time he does it. This time when he touches her tail it’s simply to hold it out of the way, but her body still tenses a little.

At some point, Phaedra pushes herself up onto her hands and her hair spills over her right shoulder when she looks back at him. His face is drawn in effort and concentration, his nostrils are flared, and his teeth clenched together. He slides one hand up to grip her shoulder and with a tug, he pulls her up onto her knees until her shoulders press back into his chest and her back curves. He kisses the curve of her jaw, her neck, wrapping both arms around her. One hand dips between her legs and the other caresses her breasts.

The steady rhythm of his hips grows more erratic and he hisses his breaths between his teeth; Phaedra can only assume he is close. She pushes one hand back through his hair closing her eyes and allowing her other senses to take over. She listens to the sound of his breathing and of his skin meeting hers. The smell of him envelopes her, and the feel of his hands on her and of his cock inside her are feelings she wants imprinted on her memory.

_“Phae,”_ he part-whispers and part-moans her name, mouthing against her skin as his hips come to a stop with him inside her. She falls forward and he follows, curling one arm around her waist to hold her close to him. She can feel his cock throbbing as his body twitches and jerks against her back. He presses his cheek to her shoulder blade, and his heartbeat thunders into her chest through his own. His kisses her back as he catches his breath, driving his hips a few more times, albeit weakly before he pulls out of her.

Before Phaedra can so much as turn and kiss him, Thancred is on his feet and crosses the room to where there is a washstand and basin. Trying not to let disappointment fill her, Phaedra drops her eyes waiting for the inevitable moment that he leaves. Instead, he fills the basin with water from a pitcher and grabs a cloth that is on the side He wets the cloth, wrings it out, and brings it to her.

“To avoid dirtying the sheets any further.” He says, grinning and handing the cloth to her.

“You’re terrible.” Phaedra retorts, smiling. She takes the cloth and quickly cleans between her legs. Thancred returns to the basin and washes his neck and face with another cloth. When Phaedra is satisfied with her own cleanliness, she climbs off the bed to drop the cloth next to the basin and then quickly wraps her arms around Thancred, pressing her cheek to his back. “So…” It’s a lame start, but her mind is vacant of any other things to say.

“We waited far too long to do this,” Thancred says. He puts his cloth in the basin and turns within her arms. Phaedra loosens her grip and he holds her face in his hands. He kisses her softly. “I waited too long to act on my feelings.”

“Thancred…” She feels like she should blush, but that seems pointless now. He’s seen her naked as the day she was born, what need is there now for bashfulness? There is so much to say, so much to talk about and things that need to be addressed, but it doesn’t feel like the right moment for such conversations. Phaedra wants to enjoy this private reunion with him. To bask in the afterglow of what has just passed between them and has changed. She takes his hands in her own and takes a step back towards the bed. “Stay.”

He doesn’t resist, and he watches her lie on her bed. He joins her, curling an arm around her shoulders and sliding his other arm behind his head. Phaedra falls asleep quickly and wakes not much later. She’s on her front and she glances to the side to see Thancred still beside her. Her movement disturbs him, and he rubs his white eye while pushing his hair back.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his voice alert. The palm of his hand comes to rest on her back. “Something wrong? You were asleep.”

She was. And there’s proof that he was comfortably dozing. Her arm is stretched out over his chest, and his arm is beneath her pillow, his fingers fiddle with her hair. He strokes her back.

“I dreamed I woke up and you were gone.” She tells him the truth, there’s no point in lying.

Thancred’s mouth curves into a brief, rueful smile. He shuffles across the sheets to her and nestles close. “I will not leave unless you want me to.” Phaedra relaxes into her pillow and he kisses her brow. “Go back to sleep. I’ll rouse you in the morning.”

“You’ll still be here?” 

Thancred lies close enough that his forehead rests against Phaedra’s. He runs his fingers up and down the valley of her spine. “I promise.”

Phaedra closes her eyes. She falls asleep to the sound of him breathing and the touch of his fingers on her back. In the morning, he is still there and her heart is light.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think!  
This is the first time I'm uploading something written for my WoL and Thancred, so I'm nervous... Although I've been playing the game since ARR and been wanting to write this particular moment since Thancred first returned. Shadowbringers has really pushed me to want to put into words all the scenes I've imagined between him and my WoL, Phaedra


End file.
